#i love him but I want him to grow up finally

[hotwife-larissa-returns]

Well, as you may know, I‘ve started quite early with exploring the pleasures of sex. I‘ve been sexually precocious and luckily my mommy knew and didn’t fight it, but helped me to get the best possible experiences. She even let one of her lovers deflower me, while she watched him doing it.

Even today, I‘m very thankful for that, it was one of the greatest gifts, I‘ve ever gotten. He was in an age, where he could have been my dad, but he had the experience and patience to do it right. He took his time, prepared me to take it and finally made me a woman.

But that experience was just the start, once I started to enjoy being fucked, I wanted more of it. More sex, more cock, more cum. I dressed like a slut in school, got the right kind of attention and there were quite a lot of boys, who got horny for me. I could see the bulges in their pants, they were attracted to a naughty little girl, who had already been deflorated.

It felt, like they all knew it, as if they could see it, that I already had sex. It was awkward, but I loved to have that reputation of being an easy lay. And I really enjoyed it, being hit on, having some flirts and some older boys had me on their personal watchlist as well.

Most of those boys even in higher grades hadn’t have much experience with the opposite sex at that time. They did some kissing, maybe some petting, but most of them haven’t put their cock in one of that girls in their class. So basically they were still virgins. But their desire to do it was growing - as was the pressure not to get left behind.

They wanted to brag about being a man, that finally enjoyed the pleasures of sticking his cock inside of a warm and wet pussy. And I volunteered to be he right person to start with. With my reputation it was quite easy to get invited to a lot of parties and as a girl of 17 years, you‘ll be happy to take those invites. In most cases those parties were at their parents houses, while they were away on vacation.

And I was the special guest on those parties, I got pulled into one of the rooms and the host had his time with me, some of his friends did me, too, after he had finished. It wasn’t too much fun, not what I expected or desired.

They were so inexperienced, they didn’t knew how to do a woman, they fucked me quick and dirty, came early, even before I got aroused. But at least all of them knew to take some protection. Mommy got me on the pill after she noticed that my sexual appetite was rising, but she told me to take care, that they have to use protection as well.

But that guy was special… I hadn’t seen him in school before. He took his time, he cared to get me into the mood, kissed me passionately, inhaled my scent, caressed my body, it felt like he was really interested in me and I had some feelings for him as well. I wanted him… desperately. And he knew it. I spread my legs for him and he entered me. Gosh, it felt great… I surely wasn’t the first one he had in bed.

I was completely overwhelmed by my feeling and let him fuck me, he gave me two orgasms and even screamed his name, before he came. And suddenly I felt, that something felt differently… so wrong. Fuck, in the heat of the moment, we had forgotten to use a condom. I opened my eyes and I was even more shocked to see two other boys standing next to the bed, completely undressed and jerking their hard cocks.

He kissed my neck again, he knew what it makes me feel like, and as I blushed, he called me his slutty princess and told me not to regret it, I was a wonderful fuck and his friends are quite as good as he is, when it comes to please a needy girl. It was the first time I felt like a dirty whore, his cum was oozing out of my tight little pussy, while I could see the lust in his friends eyes. It turned me on and I let them have me as well.

They ran a train on me that night, they took multiple turns on me… none of them used a condom, they bathed their cocks in he other guys cum. After they had finished, they left the room and as they dressed up, they pulled some money out of their pockets and gave it to him. I was so tired and exhausted and my pussy was a burning mess.

He joined me in bed, cuddled with me, kissed me, called me his new lovely slut and told me, that he’ll love to earn some more money with me. I could believe what was happening here. But I was just too exhausted and tired to discuss that, he did me one more time, bathing his cock in my well used and sloppy cunt and as he shot his last load into me, we both fell asleep.

The next morning I woke up laying next to him, he looked so cute, I kissed him and for some reason I thanked him for last night and told him something stupid… that I think I love him. He just smiled and as he walked to the bathroom I couldn’t keep my eyes off his slimy cock. I begged him to suck it clean… and I did.

He just smiled, called me a good slut and told me, that he couldn’t wait to introduce me to his family, but that’s another story.

👩🏻🤗🥰😍😘💋🫦🍆🍆🍆💦😈💓

[moonstruckme]

hi! i just read your drabble with remus fixing the readers attitude and i was wondering if you could do the same with sirius? i really loved your other one and seen you were trying to take requests for sirius.

i hope you have a wonderful day!!

Thanks for requesting, hope you have a lovely day as well <3

cw: d/s dynamics, reader has hair troubles and uses products + tries running fingers through it so it's long enough for that

Sirius Black x fem!reader ♡ 991 words

Sirius can hear you fuming from outside the bathroom. Heavy breaths and drawers being shut too harshly and the occasional, frustrated grunt. If it wouldn’t be such a betrayal of you, he’d take a video so Remus can see what he’s like while he’s transforming during a full moon. 

“What’s going on in there, gorgeous?” he asks from the bed. 

Your reply is nearly a growl. “Nothing.” 

“Mm. Yeah, sounds like nothing.” Sirius gets up, going to the bathroom and nudging the door open. He leans against the doorframe as you scowl at yourself in the mirror, wringing product into your hair like you half hope it just tears off. “What’s got you so wound up?”

“Nothing.”

He tuts. “Not any more convincing the second time. Try again.” 

You’re pointedly not looking at him, but Sirius notices that your scowl intensifies. “My hair is being fucking unbearable.” 

Sirius opens his mouth, but you cut him off. 

“And I don’t want to hear that it always looks good, or that you think I look nice no matter what, or any of that bullshit, okay?” 

“That’s unfortunate. I’m sorry, sweetness, but I’m not going to start lying to you. Your hair is perfect, and you do always look—”

Your eyes bore into your own reflection, sharp and wrathful. “Don’t.” 

Sirius’ eyebrows lift. “I’m sorry, don’t? Don’t compliment my girlfriend, or don’t be honest?” 

“Either. I know you’re full of shit, because it looks insane right now, but even if you have miraculously gone blind since this morning, Lily and Alice will be there, and they know what hair should look like when it’s not being so—so—” 

“Alright.” Sirius is beginning to grow amused with you. You’re so ridiculous when you’re upset, brash and squinty-eyed and cute. “Save yourself the exertion of finishing that sentence gorgeous. Take a breath.” 

“I don’t want to breathe!”

“And yet, we all have to anyway.” 

“God, Sirius, fuck off!” You finally lock eyes with him in the mirror, positively fuming. “I knew you wouldn’t get it. I’m trying to look nice for your friends, and you’re making fun of me! If my hair would just—fucking—” You appear to give up on the product, your attention returning to your hair as you begin dragging your fingers through it mercilessly. “—do what I tell it to, maybe then I’d fucking breathe, but instead it’s basically unsalvageable, and—”

“Oi.” Sirius’ humor at the situation has vanished. By the time you think to look at him he has both your hands in his, restrained from doing further damage to yourself. “No. If you’re going to be like this about going to Frank and Alice’s, we won’t go. So is that it, or can you be good?” 

Sirius uses the sharp tone he knows you’ll respond to, but really he isn’t angry. He only wants to give you pause. And oh, it’s so sweet to watch the brattiness leave your eyes. The terse pucker of your mouth softens to an almost imperceptible pout, your whole demeanor shifting in an instant. 

He takes both your wrists in one hand. With the other, Sirius cups the side of your throat, fingers curled around your nape and thumb rubbing against your erratic pulse. 

“I need an answer,” he says. 

“Yes,” you say, and your voice is soft, like the sharp edge from a minute ago has been bitten off. “I can.” 

“Good.” Sirius allows his tone to gentle some, though he keeps his firm grip on your wrists. “Then you have to relax, baby. Breathe.” 

This time, you do as you’re told. It works as he knew it would, your shoulders drooping after the long exhale like the last of the fight has finally gone out of you.

“Thank you.” He touches his lips briefly to the center of your forehead, pretending not to notice how you sway towards him for more. “Now, do you still want to go to Frank and Alice’s tonight?” 

You open your mouth, but this time it’s Sirius who stops you. 

“Wait. Really think about it. Are you going to enjoy yourself, or are you going to spend the whole time feeling weird about your hair?” 

You hesitate, rubbing your lips together. Sirius strokes his thumb down the line of your throat approvingly. 

“I still think I want to go,” you say after a few moments. 

“Okay.” Sirius nods. “Then you’re going to let me braid your hair for you. You’ll look just as lovely and perfect as you do now, but you won’t be able to mess with it any more. Does that sound alright to you?” 

Your relief is palpable. You let out a breath, eyes growing suspiciously bright. “Yeah. That would be great, thank you.” 

“Okay, come here.” Sirius releases your neck and wrists to wrap his arms around you. He presses his lips to your lovely, perfect hair while you curl your hands in his shirt as if to keep him from slipping away. Like Sirius would ever want to. “Shh. You’re fine, baby. Ease up.” 

“I’m sorry for snapping at you,” you mumble against his front. 

“Yeah, I’ll bet. You did it more than once, if I recall.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

“I know.” He laughs a little, hugging you tighter. “It’s okay. You get a hair insanity pass, just this once. Let’s have a good night, okay?” 

You let out another sigh. Sirius rubs your back reflexively. “Yes, please.” 

“M’kay. Let’s go.” He starts ushering you towards the bed, grabbing a couple of hair ties on his way out of the bathroom. “We’re done with the mirror for today. And no yelling at me while I do your hair, got it?” 

You try on a coy smile; it’s small, but Sirius respects the effort. “I could never yell at you.” 

“Uh huh. I may forgive, but I don’t forget that easily, sweetness. Try it again and we’ll be staying home to deal with that attitude of yours.”

[narcjsistx]

little nsfw scenario, DNI if you're a minor <3 ; words: 0.6k

Imagine, you and RIN ITOSHI in the dark corridor of the cinema of your city, with Sae in the next room who has no idea what is happening between his brother and his best friend, who doesn't know that before he came home his best friend was on his brother's lap, and that Rin was going crazy with your cunt completely pressed against his thighs :(

And that now that the three of you are at the cinema, Rin couldn't help but follow you when you said you were going to the bathroom. if you think you can leave him in this uncomfortable situation for so many hours, you are wrong!

As you are about to reach the bathroom door, you feel a familiar hand blocking you; Rin stands before you, his hand gripping your wrist, a mixture of desire and hesitation in his eyes. His breathing is slightly ragged, his body moving on its own accord as he pushed you against the wall, his face now mere inches away from yours. Taken by surprise, you feel his hands take you from under your thighs, lifting you up and placing you at another height. In an instant, his lips crash against yours, kissing you fiercely, his body pressing you even harder against the wall: his hands grip your thighs tightly, bringing you closer to him as he devours your lips, the kiss filled with a mix of passion and desperation, as if he's finally giving into the desire that's been building up within him all this time. You are surprised by the passion with which he kisses you, and for a few seconds you don't move... but when you realize, you respond to his kiss, running your hands through his hair. Rin lets out a soft groan as you respond to his kiss, his body shivering. He kisses you even harder, his tongue slipping into your mouth, exploring and tasting you with an intensity that surprises even himself

He leans in, his lips hovering just above your neck, his breath hot against your skin "You're driving me crazy..." he whispers, his hand now sliding underneath your shirt, feeling your bare skin against his touch. Rin's hand moves to your breast, his touch sending sparks of pleasure shooting through your body. He feels the way you gasp in response to his touch, a small smirk forming on his lips "You like that, don't you...?" he whispers, his lips moving down your neck, leaving a trail of wet kisses along your skin. His teeth graze against your skin, biting

Rin takes your moans as a response as a cue to continue, his lips and teeth roaming across your neck, leaving love bites and soft kisses as he goes. He continues to kiss and bite, his hand still moving gently on your breast, his actions now becoming more urgent, more hungry "You taste so good..." he murmurs against your skin. You are left speechless, feeling how he can make you dumb with just his touch; Rin can feel the effect his touch has on you, the way you're left at his mercy. It only serves to fuel his desire even further, his touches now becoming even more intimate and possessive. He leans in, his lips now right next to your ear, his voice low and rough "I want you... I need you..." he whispers, his hand now squeezing your boob, as his fingers focus on your needy and red nipple

He holds you, his hands still under your thighs "Wrap your legs around me..." he commands, his voice rough and needy. Rin growls appreciatively as you obey his command, his hips pressing against yours tightly as your legs wrap around his waist. He can feel the way your bodies are connected now, the heat between you only growing more intense. He cups your cheek with one hand, his thumb tracing your jawline as he looks at you with desire "You're mine... all mine..."

✶ 𝐌𝐘 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ; take a look, trust me!

[lovelylittlegrim]

Headcanon that Eddie isnt the kind of guy to say I love you first. He’d had it rough growing up. Dead beat parents and very little affection until he moved in with Wayne.

And Wayne is a quiet man. More action than words so I think Eddie would learn how to love from him. With actions. A new mug here, a pat there, a plate of breakfast after a rough shift. Acts of service as their love language.

Steve Harrington though… He also grew up with very little affection but he didn’t have an uncle Wayne. So, love for him is different. Steve falls hard and fast and he is always quick to say it, always the first one to say ‘I love you’. And he means it everytime and is devastated when it isn’t reciprocated.

When steddie happens, Steve would try to play it cautious. He’s been burnt so many times that he holds the words to his chest for weeks, maybe even months before they finally come spilling out. And, Eddie would be stunned. He could probably count on his hands the times he’s been verbally told he’s loved. And, of course he loves steve too. How could anyone not love steve? But Eddie can’t get the words out.

And Steve, he gets it. He knows Eddie. Knows that even though Eddie can’t say it, that the way he leans into Steve and kisses him all soft and sweet and deep says it for him. It’s in Eddie’s big expressive eyes the way it’s never been in anyone else’s before. Steve wants to hear the words, but he doesn’t need them from Eddie because he can see it. It’s mutual. It’s reciprocated and that’s enough for Steve.

I do think Eddie will say it. Later. Maybe a few months down the line and I think it’ll be such a random and seemingly unremarkable moment. That Steve is probably just sitting there, all focused and squinty eyed as he’s working on something and Eddie is watching him. And Eddie loves him. Loves him so so fucking much and the words don’t seem all that scary or hard to say anymore.

“Steve?”

“Hmm,” Steve hums, not looking up from the bracelets he promised to make for Max and El.

And Eddie can’t stop the grin on his face, the relief as the words roll so easily off his tongue. So earnest and honest and heartfelt, “I love you.”

Steves head snaps up, eyes wide as he looks over at Eddie.

Eddie feels warm beneath that gaze, hair tickling his cheek as he tugs it over his mouth. It’s out of habit more than embarrassment, or vulnerability.

He watches Steves throat bob when he swallows, the way his mouth ticks up at the corners, how it grows into a wide smile. He doesn’t make it a big deal, doesn’t even comment on it other than to say, “Love you too.”

[t1ts-4-donaldson]

Mutual masterbation with Stanford Art

It’s a scorching Saturday afternoon when you find yourself laid half naked in Art's bed, the AC unit in your dorm had broke Thursday morning and you’d been doing what you could to stave off the heat, spending most of your day in the library or cafeteria between classes but you always had to go back to your god forsaken room at the end of the day.

Art had noticed your condition the past few days sweating through lounge clothes that fit a bit to tight for comfort short enough to show a little more skin, he understood your discomfort but fuck you looked so good each forced to excuse himself after each encounter around hard as a rock. It was confusing to you not noticing how hard he was or his obvious infatuation towards you but you paid no mind.

Art been in love with you for ages pining pathetically for years. Patrick mocked him comparing him to a dog utterly devoted yet all of his attempts were in vain, someone else always caught your eye or you’d write off any of his compliments as friendly banter. He was on the verge of giving up but the summer heat finally gave way to the possibility of anything happening between you two.

you hit your boiling point unable to handle the exasperating heat

so now you're here at his front door pleading for some relief.

“Art it’s too hot I need air please" you stammer the words completely jumbled together, he’s taken aback a bit but steps aside letting you in

 “can I strip please I’m begging you" clammy hands tugging at the hem of your shirt

“of course yeah.” Art acquiesces voice cracking as he turns away respecting your privacy utterly shocked, his best friend here almost nude. You strip grateful in too much distress to notice his unease.

“lay in the bed” he offers still staring at the wall, you squint the blatant shyness but don’t care stumbling forward falling back exhaling deeply the breeze from the air-con finally hitting your body the cold calming you down

"Art lie down" you hum patting the space next to you, the boy shuffles over landing next to your body making sure there’s miles of space between you both

You frown shoving your shoulder against his, gripping his arm and pulling him closer "why are you freaking out you've seen me in a bikini before" you ask puzzled.

"this is different" he shrugs "underwear" he gulps, he hates himself for acting this way clamming up like a child it’s pitiful.

"Art it's just me, your best friend" you grin cupping his face tilting his head meeting his worried gaze.

Best friend he winces but wills that strain away shutting his eyes giving in tugging his shirt off as well. “I guess I need fresh air too” he sighs settling against his pillow not before peeking at your chest, nipples pebbling through your lace bra. He averts his gaze quickly when you pinch his arm coughing awkwardly knowing he’d been caught.

“Artie.. something you like?” You joke scooting a bit closer to him

“you wish” he sneers but shifts uncomfortably tugging his shorts trying to tamper down his growing boner, you follow his movements, realizing of what’s happening hitting you. 

“want me to help?” you ask.

“Shut up” he whines embarrassed “you’re fucking with me” he rolls his eyes with disdain 

you try to sound sincere “I will..” you nod, hand slowly shifting over his stomach towards his crotch “only if you want” you stammer sitting up on one elbow.

 “yes, yeah go for it” he chokes out eagerly in disbelief

You settle back down palming his hard on, “fuck” he throws his head back you smirk ego slightly inflated, hand slowly tugs the waistband of his boxers down mouth salivating at the sight erect tip flushed pink leaking, it makes you feel sorry for him. “So needy” you pout running your fingers up and down his member squeezing his balls lightly

“Tease” he chokes out gripping the sheets firmly, you give in feeling bad once his chin starts to wobble, you spit in your palm looking into his eyes as you do so his reaction priceless, mouth slack eyes blinking languidly

you tug his spit slathered dick slowly up and down, rolling his balls between your hand roaming up again running your thumb over his tip smearing pre cum over it, holding back a giggle when a whimper escapes his lips twisting your wrist with each pump.

“Fuck I’m close” sweat beading on his forehead enough of an indication, you lean forward and suck his neck nipping a bit before rising your mouth barely touching his “cum for me.” 

He shudders beneath you panting softly one hand gripping your thigh with a vice surely leaving red indents on your flesh. 

You attempt make his high last as longer milking him dry until he grabs your wrist, “too much” he heaves chest flushed red just like his cheeks.“Didn’t know you’d be that good” he laughs. 

“Doubting my skills? that hurts” you mock lifting your hand observing the thin creamy substance on your skin bringing your fingers to your lips sucking them out of curiosity. Art gulps eyes fixated dick beginning to harden again.

You sigh in contentment, leaning back against the headboard staring up at the ceiling “hope that was nice” you smile knowing it was. 

You stiffen as Art unexpectedly grips your waist. “Can I do you” he pleads meekly.

“no need to return the favor” you laugh ruffling his curls but he shakes his head desperately. “Please.. let me make you feel good” his body vibrates “been wanting to for a while-” he admits eyes watery “please-” 

“alright..” you whisper caressing his cheek wondering where his eagerness is coming from.

what really takes you back is him kissing you, immediately latching his mouth on yours without warning biting at your bottom lip, demanding to open up. You cave tongues lashing together as spit dribbles down your chin. His hand snakes down stopping right over your mound running his fingers up and down your slit over your underwear the cotton rubbing against your clit just right

 you gasp mouth dropping at the sensation he smirks fingers slipping into pussy gathering juices from your hole smothering it over your clit tracing he circles around it

“shit” you groan feeling his fingers slip inside you lost in your own pleasure nails digging into his arm body rolling in time with his hand. 

An idea pops up, finish at the same time

 you sneak a hand between his boxers knowing you can pull another orgasm out of him, Art hisses at contact involuntarily slowing his ministrations cursing trying to concentrate on his movements, “together come on” you urge pecking his lips gently

He nods both of your bodies trembling in tandem, exchanging moans between open mouths, gripping skin trying to find some semblance of control.

“Art I’m close” you squeal eyes shut tight chest rising and falling rapidly 

“come on fucking cum” he grunts sinking his teeth into your shoulder your legs clench together as pleasure rips through you like lightning, a sudden gushing sensation releases between your thighs you gape at his soaked palm 

“I didn’t know I could do that” you pant trying to catch your breath

“doubting my skills?” He whispers pecking a sloppy kiss on your cheek

[cryptidbear]

YES! YOU GET IT!!!

The angst of it all is just perfect, honestly.

the back and forth between his kids ending up as robins or vigilantes in general.

the fear of finding them dead like he did Bruce.

the fear of not returning alive to his kids like Bruce did.

But seeing younger him in them when they fight to be robin or anything else-

the same way he used to fight Bruce.

and he knows he can't keep doing it alone, knows Gotham needs a light he can't give to them now that he's Batman, something that only Robin could give.

but that fear is so deeply rooted that he feels stuck in place, unsure of what to even do.

I have some notes i wrote down back when i was brainstorming the au-

Jason wants to be a hero- he wants to fight alongside Dick. He wants to help Crime Alley- his home, and better it.

Dick's heart seizes in fear and he absolutely forbids it, a hard no. His foot is down. "I can't lose you too, Jason. I can't lose another family member, I can't watch someone I love die to crime another time. Just... grow up a normal kid. Please."

Jason is angry at this answer, his hands clutching into his hoodie as he shouts with tears in his eyes, asking Dick how he thinks he feels watching Dick go out all alone as Batman and coming back looking like a damned corpse? If Dick dies... then Jason is all alone again. He's afraid of another parental figure dying.

Dick is left reeling as the young boy storms off, his heart dropping into his stomach, stuck between a rock and a hard place, feeling like the weight of everything was finally crushing him.

But he doesn't take back what he says. It hurts, but he doesn't want to see Jason ever get hurt. He doesn't think he can handle it. He doesn't think he could survive it.

He's lost enough already, hasn't he?

And then one night, Jason steals Dick's old Robin costume from his early days from the display case, wrinkling his nose as he dawns the pixie boots. Because pixie boots, really Dick?

And he's sneaking out once Dick has left for patrol, long after the young boy was supposed to be asleep.

the suit is ill fitting but he feels light as air as he stumbles his way across rooftops, using his skills he'd learned while living on the streets to prowl unseen by Batman.

Or, at least he thinks he's being sneaky, until Dick is snatching him up by the bright yellow cape, and in a loud angry voice he's never had directed at him from Dick, the older male lets his anger gets the best of him. Yells at him on some random rooftop, all the emotions and fears he's kept bottled up for so long spilling out as he sees Jason in his old Robin suit.

He says things he doesn't mean, things he immediately regrets as he see's Jason's heart break and tears bead up in Jason's eyes.

watches with dread as the young boy just breaks down in a way he never has before right there on the rooftop, and before Dick can even apologize, the boy has run off, quick as lightning.

It takes two excruciating hours before he finds Jason hidden somewhere in Crime Alley, still sobbing and curled up, tucked away in some hidden corner, soaked from the rain.

Dick collapses in front of the boy and just draws him tight to his chest, covering the shivering boy with his cape and warming him up, his back against a wall and the tiny boy cradled in his lap, his head tucked beneath his chin.

they don't speak for a long while, silent as they both try to process their own emotions, as Dick tries to navigate something he never thought he'd have to.

"I'm afraid of losing you like I lost him." he admits, quiet in the wind as he holds the boy closer, almost desperately like he's afraid he'll disappear if he doesn't. "I just finally started living again... and i can't lose the one light I have."

its silent for a while once more, Dick weighing his options on what he should do,

Jason speaks up next, speaking of the way crime alley needed help, help that Batman couldn't give on his own. Things that he just couldn't understand without growing up there.

Dick listens to his son, listens to the passionate way he speaks, listens to how Jason opens up about Catherine, and about the gangs and how its barely livable there anymore.

Dick can't deny him anymore after that.

He breaks and gives in, a small, wet laugh leaving his lips. "There's no one else I'd rather be my robin." he whispers.

They don't discuss it anymore that night, Dick carrying the boy back to the manor.

They both end up with bad colds and Alfred scolds the both of them, but he doesn't leave the boy's side the whole time, trying to make up for his mistakes. for all the hurt he caused.

Once they're better, Dick lays out the rules, trying to find solutions to make them both happy.

School will be Jason's number one priority, and Jason can only do short patrols on weekdays, longer on weekends.

He would not go out until he had a few months of training, except to keep watch for Batman.

Dick would take him on patrol through crime alley, and they would work together to figure out what they needed to do to help.

He was not allowed on missions or to fight any super dangerous fights- no matter how much he wanted to. not until he was on the field for a long time, thank you very much.

Jason hates some of the rules, but he finally relents after a long time debating over it, knowing that Dick had some good points, even though he's never tell the man that.

Dick lets Jason redesign the robin costume to suit him better, and the first thing Jason does is add pants. he was really fucking cold in Dick's outfit and he didn't like it.

Jason becomes crime alley's Robin, recognized as one of their own. It starts to slowly blossom under his guidance, bit by bit over the years.

(one day I'll actually write this fully fleshed out as a fic and not just 3 am rambles, lol)

(and one day i'll write about the other kids too, i just haven't written past like, Jason and Tim meeting for the first time bc i'm brainstorming chapter by chapter oops.)

Lying awake at 5 am thinking of the au I planned out where Batman dies before Dick ever becomes Nightwing, so Dick becomes Batman and he ends up adopting all his siblings instead.

19/20 year old Dick Grayson staring down at a like 10-13 year old Jason Todd trying to steal his tires and understanding why Bruce took him home that day at the circus.

Dick Grayson staring at Jason who brought home a young Tim and feeling like he can never let Tim go, or maybe him finding the young boy taking photos one late night.

Dick finding out about (baby!) Damian and stealing him. That's *his* son now.

Him finding Cass and just accepting he has a daughter too. Doesn't even fight it anymore.

Duke? He just sighs and wraps the kid up in a blanket. Alfred's already got a room set up for him by the time they're back at the manor.

Eventually, Tim and Steph date and break up (she gets to finally have a good time as Robin PLEASE) but Dick gets said when she stops coming to family dinner. She starts coming again bc she can't stand the puppy dog eyes. She's his unofficial daughter.

Barbara and Alfred just watching all this go down and staring to place bets on when they think another shows up.

Dick but he just inherits his father's adoption problems.

Ft uncle Clark and aunt Lois with (baby!!!) Kon and eventually a baby Jon.

Ft an unholy amount of angst almost every damned chapter.

[daryldove]

Distraction

daryl x gn!reader

summary: you keep daryl company daryl while he recovers in the farm house

“cut it out,” you giggle, squirming under daryl's hand as he jabs your side playfully. after offering to take the injured hunter some dinner, you manage to convince him to let you stay and keep him company, something he'll deny enjoying if anyone asks. truthfully, you two had become rather close after everything. although from his perspective, not by choice. “You're supposed to be resting, mister,” you scold him with a smirk as you adjust your position against the headboard.

“can't when ya botherin’ me.” you gasp dramatically at his sarcastic comeback. daryl is incredibly charming, even when he didn't mean to be. it's one of the things you quite admire about him, as well as his sarcastic humour, something the others didn't get to witness to the extent you did. you're not even completely sure if they knew it existed. but he knew how to make you laugh, and he seemed to enjoy it.

“is that what this is now? and here I thought you loved my company, dixon.” that earns you a scoff in response. “admit it,” you continue with a proud tone, “im your favourite in the group.” he doesn't respond right away, forcing you to turn your attention from staring ahead to check on him. the sudden, unexpectedly soft look in his eye has you momentarily speechless.

“what?” you internally thank any god out there that your voice doesn't crack in that moment. gaze flicking over his dirty face, you can't help admire how oddly adorable he looks bundled up under sheets and wrapped in bandages. you feel your heart clench. eventually, daryl shrugs it away with a grunt, shutting himself back off. it's something he does often. you can practically see the thought piling up in his mind, but he always holds back. it stirs an unaccustomed feeling in your gut. complicated.

something feels different this time. maybe because for the first time since you met him, you feel safe. vulnerable. he's lying injured before you, both protected by four walls. it feels wrong to take advantage of this moment to open him up, but maybe that's what it'll take. “are your stitches bothering you?” his hand stops yours from reaching out to touch the bandage around his head, freezing you in place. his hand is rough and warm around yours, short circuiting your mind for a split second. you don't pull away, despite him probably expecting you to. instead, you lean closer towards him.

daryl's eyes flick between yours, as if answers to his curiousity reflects in them. you want to tease him, say something out of pocket that will turn him speechless. instead, you move your hand to rest against his cheek. he practically flinches as you cup his face, reacting like he's undeserving of the softness of your touch. but it doesn't appear unwanted. never.

“how are you feeling?” you ask with a light voice. it's not about his injuries, and he seems to pick up on that. he nods slightly and clears his throat before answering. “good… fine.” your smile grows at his shyness.

“that so?” finally, you let yourself be playful, reassured that he won't be so easily scared off. his gaze is intense and unwavering, and you find yourself unable to resist anymore. leaning down until your lips are barely inches apart, you give him just enough time to pull away. part of you expects him to, like the wall you spent all this time breaking down will be pitched back up in seconds. but he doesn't, nor does he shout and fling himself off the bed to avoid you like your anxiety is convinced he would. so you finally press your lips against his.

daryl's eyes widen in surprise and disbelief while yours subconsciously flutter shut. kissing him feels exactly like you imagined. you can feel your cheeks heating up once you finally pull away, a nervous giggle escaping you at how dazed he looks.

“what?” a smile creeps onto your lips as you question him again. you can practically see daryl's mind spinning as he speechlessly stares up back at you. there's an unreadable look in his eye as seconds pass. unable to help it, your eyes fall to his lips. this time, it's him who pulls you in with a large hand on your neck. his boldness pulls a surprised moan that he swallows.

“guess i am a good distraction,” you whisper after eventually pulling away, scoring a rare, soft chuckle from the hunter.

“guess so.”

[thewitchblue]

"Stop stealing my shit."

Jason said as he yanks his favourite hoodie from Dick's hands. Everybody comes by his apartment and steals something for the road. He had assumed this sibling habit would stop when he moved out, but apparently, that is not the case.

Dick, undeterred, continued to riffle through his closet. The apartment looked too lively in the past couple of months. It looked like people actually live here and not Jason's usual barren home. Dick held up one of your plushies and examined it. Jason said aggressively,

"That's not even mine! Put it back!"

Dick huffed. Jason used to have a stuffed animal that he dragged everywhere back in his early Robin days, so Dick could totally believe Jason having a plushie collection in secret.

"I knew my little birdie is still in there."

Dick smiled as he held the plushie. It was a fluffy polar bear that looked like it was used regularly. The image of Jason holding a small bear to fall asleep with was too cute for Dick not to feel the familiar joy little Jason used to bring him. His baby brother is still his baby brother! Underneath all that rage, Jason is still the 12 year old kid who wants love.

"Honey, I'm hooooome!"

Dick heard a voice call out dramatically like a 1950s sitcom. You were putting away your coat and humming softly when Tim casually climbed into your house through your living room window. He stood awkwardly for a moment, unsure how to proceed after climbing through the window and spotting you. This is an awkward way to meet his brother's significant other. You screeched when you noticed him and smashed a lamp on his head. He cursed his silent footsteps as he stumbled back. Five seconds ago, you were humming Singing in The Rain, and now you have an injured vigilante on your doorstep.

"You alright, munchkin?"

Jason called out as he managed to finally take the bear from Dick's grubby little hands. The white fur wasn't covered in Gotham's dirt, thankfully, but now he was angry.

You were quiet for a suspicious amount of time, so he couldn't fight Dick the way he wanted to. He went to the living room to find you cleaning up shards of glass while Tim awkwardly plucked out shards from his hair. His head hurt, but he didn't complain, and you didn't apologise.

Neither brother knew what to do around you. Dick wants answers. He will get to the bottom of this.

"How long have you been together?

Dick asked when he got over the initial shock. He needed to know everything. Tim is the one to answer,

"Four years, yes, they know about Red Hood, they've lived together for a few months now and recently got engaged."

You nodded to confirm everything while throwing away the glass. It was weird that Tim knew everything about your relationship, but you didn't really care in the moment. You sighed and lay on the couch after putting away the broom and dustpan. You need a nap, not guests.

Dick was hung up on the word engaged. It's one thing to keep a secret partner, but a secret fiancée hurts his big brother ego. Was Jason going to get married before he ever met you? Dick was frustrated. He asked,

"What was the plan? To never show us your partner?"

You lazily took Jason's hand in yours. You remained in your comfortable position on the couch, but you wanted to show your silent support. You were willing to do whatever makes Jason comfortable.

Jason lightly squeezed your hand in gratitude. He knew they would adore you and steal your attention at every possible chance. Why would he tell them about you? They would all be insufferable. He said flatly,

"It wasn't a secret. Replacement found out about it."

Dick was still mad, but now he turned to Tim with a look of betrayal. He just remembered that Tim was the one to answer his earlier question. He asked Tim,

"You never thought to tell me?"

Tim shrugged and replied,

"It was good blackmail in the beginning."

You laughed despite the tension growing in the room. Tim found out within the third week of your relationship. Master detective indeed.

He knew something was different. Jason wasn't as aggressive nor as self-destructive. He started to pull his punches in their spars, and he stopped bullying everybody. He either had six months left to live and wanted to make amends, or there was something or someone in his life fixing him.

Dick didn't like that excuse, but it made sense to Tim. Why wouldn't he blackmail Jason? He has dirt on everyone, even Bruce. Jason was livid at the time, but Tim held him back by threatening to leak the relationship to the press.

Jason sat on the armrest of the couch you were lying on and kissed the back of your hand gently. He wouldn't care if people knew now, but he admittedly wanted to selfishly keep you to himself. Jason asked,

"Why does it matter?"

Dick was malfunctioning. Why does it matter? How does it not matter? These are huge steps in life, and he missed them? He was going to miss his little brother's wedding! What's next? Adopting kids from Crime Alley? Dick was speechless.

Jason just wants them out of his house. He always hates when they show up randomly, but it's even worse now that he has someone waiting for him at home. You had clashing schedules up until now, so it wasn't a huge problem with their random visits because he could always physically shove them out the door before you arrived home. Now that you switched shifts, you can spend a lot more quality time with him, but at the cost of his family popping in and snooping like they are right now.

You and Tim were watching from the sidelines with intrigue. If there was popcorn, you both would have a bowl. Normally, this is around the time Jason punched Dick and started a fight, but this time, Jason simply dragged Dick and the previously forgotten Tim by their shirts and stuffed them out of the window. He quickly locked the window and closed the curtains while giving them the middle finger.

You walked over to him when you noticed his irritation not leaving and wrapped him in a hug. He needs something to de-stress, and you often use sensory stimulus to keep him in the presence. You murmured softly,

"Sugar bear, it's okay."

Jason nodded. He wanted your gentle touch, but he needed to search the apartment for any stolen property. What if Dick stole your favourite plushie or Tim stole his combat knife? They are stealthy in what they steal, which is why he kept everything barren in the first place. If they can get away with it, they will do it.

Your hands run along his arms. Jason relaxed into your touch. How do you do that? What magic do you have that can calm him so efficiently? You make his loud mind silent.

"If he stole one of your plushies, I'm going to kill them both."

He said gruffly. You laughed and gently ran your fingers through his hair. You shouldn't be surprised by the clear irritation, but it really highlights the effects his family still has on him. The way he tensed when he saw Tim and you, the way he squeezed your hand a tad tighter than normal, and the way his breathing changed to calm a raising panic attack just like you taught him. You lightly kissed his shoulder before saying,

"He probably stole my Nightwing plush. I have the whole family set, you know."

Jason knows for a fact Dick would steal a Nightwing plushie if he found one in Jason's home. He can already see it in Dick's apartment. It would probably be next to his bed as a trophy, teasing Jason and daring him to try to reclaim it.

He casually reached for one of his guns and loaded it. You lightly hit his arm and scolded,

"I can always buy a new plushie. You can't buy a new brother."

Jason raised an eyebrow. He definitely could buy a new brother. He could bring Bruce an orphan and his baby fever would take over. What's Bruce going to do if Jason shows up with a baby who was recently orphaned? Adopt them, of course.

"You underestimate Bruce's baby fever. He would adopt the whole orphanage if he could fit them all in the manor."

You shook your head with amusement in your eyes. You pointed out,

"You would become the eldest if he was killed. All your brothers would go to you for advice on life experiences."

Jason sighed and put the gun away. Fine. You win this round. He doesn't want to deal with his family any more than he has to anyway. He pulled you into a calming kiss. It soothed his aggression instantaneously. He practically melts into your arms. He is excited to spend his life with you.

Your beautiful boyfriend may be rough around the edges, but you love the chips and scratches.

[blond3ang3l]

Bottom bf! gojo smut!

⋱♱⋰ ⋱✮⋰ ⋱♱⋰ ⋱✮⋰ ⋱♱⋰⋱♱⋰ ⋱✮⋰ ⋱⋰

Cw- pegging

Your boyfriend was undeniably one of the prettiest guys anyone's seen. Even with all his muscles he had this girly charm to him. To be honest he was nervous you wouldn't exactly like him with how he acted and sometimes dressed. You had caught him staring at you multiple times like he was studying you before you guys started dating. Of course you thought it was weird at first before he came up to you to compliment your outfit. You loved your pretty boyfriend. Being able to put your makeup on him, letting him steal your clothes, he just looked so damn good.

"Satoru, c'mon baby say ahhh." You cooed to him. You pushed his bangs out of his face. All night your lovely boyfriend had been getting hit on by different guys and girls. Even though Satoru didn’t flirt back you felt that he still needed to show him why you two were together and not anyone else. Satoru parted his lips, letting you push his head down on to the hot pink strap that you wore as you stood over him.

A small gag came from him before he grabbed your thighs to try and take more of it. “Mmm- m’ am i doing baby?” He mumbled against the toy. It was a sight for sure. Your big strong boyfriend all teary eyes and gagging on your dick. “Doing so good for mommy Toru. Such a shame this girl can’t see you now isn’t it? You’d think they like that baby? Seeing how easy you are to get on your knees and be used like the needy slut you are.”

His dick twitched at your words. His tip an angry red color, leaking so much without you even touching him already. His cheeks hollowed around with a small moan. Slurping and gagging filled his neatly decorated room. With his freshly done French tips he dug his nails into your thighs, pushing is head all he way down until his nose was buried int you lower tummy. He had never been turned on so much. The stern look you gave him was doing things to him that he never experienced with anyone he had ever been in. He pulled his head back, panting trying to catch his breath.

You helped Satoru up and got him all settled on your lap, his hand moving between his legs as he guided the tip to his puckered hole. With a bite of his lip he slowly moved down onto the toy only getting halfway before letting out a whine. “Help, please mommy.” You let out a small tsk to hold back your smirk that was eager to grow on your face. “You got it Toru. Cmon, make mom happy.” A pout grew on his glossed up lips wanting to beg for you but seeing the look on your face he knew there was no use.

He gripped your shoulders, hissing as slowly started to sink down until he finally took the whole thing. His eyes already were cloudy and he looked all dazed. He grinded down on to you making his eyes roll back. It felt like it was hitting every spot imaginable in him. “Baby oh my god-” he cut himself off as his eyes glanced down a small bulge in his tummy. “You feel me baby? All the way your tummy.” Your hands gripped his ass as you sit up to face him. Mumbled pleas fell from his lip as you took over, fucking into him.

You mocked his whines with a chuckle. “Yeah? Feels good? You gonna cum huh? Gonna cum from riding mommy? His breaths started to sound more like pants as he eagerly nodded. Your hand wrapped around his dick and you barely got three strokes in before he came with a loud cry. His head fell on top of yours, letting you wipe the sweat off his face. “Did so good for me baby. Let’s get you showered okay?” You went to help him lay down before he pushed you down making your back hit the bed.

“Not done yet. Need more. Need you. One more round baby. Please?”…

⋱♱⋰ ⋱✮⋰ ⋱♱⋰ ⋱✮⋰ ⋱♱⋰⋱♱⋰ ⋱✮⋰ ⋱⋰

@merakidoll

@vmpireslut

@chrollohearttags

[mattnottrecs]

cough cough cough *you get it* i finally had time to read this, and i’m genuinely pissed at myself for not reading it earlier 😡 because this was so hot, GTFO

he sits down onto his black leather chair, raising his hand to silence everyone, although it's already pretty quiet - but now even the smallest of whispers die down. his calm gaze slowly drifts over the room, making every single one of your fellow believers shiver, and you're no exception.

the description is always eating my poor ass (good sign) #%#% i can genuinely see the scenery in my head without even trying 🤲🏻

your reverent eyes never leave his face as you kneel between his spread legs and kiss the back of his hand,

i know what you did here, and let me tell you… YOU’RE A FUCKING GENIUS. as someone who grew up using it to show respect—YOU ATE

his soothing voice begins to waft through the air like silk and honey combined, and you try not to get completely lost in it.

genuinely imagining theo talking to me with his little accent while i’m ready to take him :( i’m sad because he’s not real 🦭

you can't apologize - you're filled with him to the brim,

this is just beautiful, i love, love, LOVE the way you write—gtfo now!

give me your brain RIGHT NOW

allowed. if you're good and lucky enough, teacher theodore will give you release after the sermon is over.

jsjsjsjsjjss look— I’M NOT AGAINST IT— ACTUALLY, I’M IMAGINING THIS

💦💦💦💦💦💦🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊 — aka me

THE SMUT WAS SO FUCKING WELL EXECUTED I’M DONE WITH YOUR TALENT

"you did well, darling. very well," he murmurs, and your heart grows a few sizes too big for your chest.

need him to tell me this after i * his * for hours (i would faint)

also, I LOVED THE WAY SHE SEEMS SO SUBMISSIVE TO HIM. SHE REALLY WANTS TO PLEASE HIM, AND IT’S SO WELL DONE

this was fucking amazing. i always knew you were good, but you always make me crave more 🤧🤧 10/10, I WANT TO BE HIS FAVORITE ASAP

⋆౨ৎ you give cult leader!theo a blowjob during a sermon

nav // aus / cult leader!theo // more

hello, hi. here i am, with probably my favourite and the most challenging to write au. hoping that y’all will match my freak with this one.

warnings: 18+ mdni, cult dynamics (duh), power imbalance, religious terminology, public blowjob, mentions of gagging, praise

the whole main area of the temple is taut with anticipation as soon as teacher theodore walks onto his podium. he sits down onto his black leather chair, raising his hand to silence everyone, although it’s already pretty quiet – but now even the smallest of whispers die down. his calm gaze slowly drifts over the room, making every single one of your fellow believers shiver, and you’re no exception. you watch with awe as the man scans the room, and eventually, his fascinating blue eyes land on you.

"you, my dear," he drawls, his voice enveloping you like the warmest blanket and simultaneously igniting a fire inside your body that not a single soul can put out except for him. "come here."

excitement nearly bubbles over in your stomach as you stand up from the floor, trying to keep your legs from trembling – you have to show him that his choice tonight is worth it, that you’re worth the grace he’s shown you. as you approach him, you can feel the stares of others burning into your back, but you don’t mind them, you barely even notice – your entire being is filled with theodore, him, him, him.

your reverent eyes never leave his face as you kneel between his spread legs and kiss the back of his hand, your hands obediently resting on your thighs as you wait for your cue. you can’t help clutching the fabric of your white robe just a little as you feel the heat starting to spread in your stomach – but it’s all about him right now, and it always is.

theodore looks down at you, his gaze lingering on your awestruck face, and nods. giving your best to staying collected, you nod in return and lift your hands up to unbuckle the belt of his trousers. theodore watches you for a moment longer, and then his attention shifts to the room filled with the rest of the disciples. his soothing voice begins to waft through the air like silk and honey combined, and you try not to get completely lost in it. you have to focus. you have a task.

as quietly as you can, you pull the zipper down, then his trousers and briefs. his cock is already half-hard, which makes you simultaneously salivate, and your chest fill with pride – usually, the other girls and guys have to work a bit to get him to this state. you don’t know if it’s your luck, but you wouldn’t dream of questioning it; it’s your first time being picked for the pleasure purpose, and you’re determined to make a good impression in hopes of becoming a new favourite.

you lean in, your breath ghosting over theodore’s skin, and notice his cock twitch at the sensation. even the smallest movement makes you preen, but you try not to get lost to your selfishness. your hand comes up to grab him at the base, and you feel him harden more, his cock now standing straight in your hold. he’s so big – you’ve been dying to get a taste ever since you first saw it, but have been patiently waiting for your turn until now.

your tongue sticks out to lick a wet stripe up to the tip, where your lips wrap around it. you give an almost tentative swirl, knowing that you can’t rush – the sermon can last up to an hour, and you have to draw it out until the very end. you don’t want to disappoint the teacher. you starts sucking in the tip, and your mind fills with the overwhelming sense of adoration – you still can’t believe that you’re the one given the honor of pleasing theodore tonight.

you fail to register the words he’s saying, which makes your cheeks heat up with shame – just because you’ve been chosen doesn’t excuse you from taking in the preachings. yet you can’t help yourself – his cock fits too good in your mouth, like it was made to slide right in and out. as you take him deeper, the tip hot and pulsating against the roof of your mouth, a wave of tingles washes over your belly. your hand itches to drop down between your legs, but you’re fully aware it’s not allowed. if you’re good and lucky enough, teacher theodore will give you release after the sermon is over. until then, he’s the center of your world.

as the minutes pass, your jaw starts to hurt a little from being stretched to its absolute limit around theodore’s thickness. your head slowly bobs up and down, the slick sounds of your saliva coating his cock quiet enough not to disturb the sermon, yet you’re sure the entire temple can hear them. this knowledge makes you proud of yourself yet again – they know, they should know that you’re the one making theodore feel good at this moment. you know you shouldn’t feel possessive of your teacher, yet you allow yourself the weakness, even if only deep inside your soul.

when theodore’s hand lands on the top of your head, you know it’s a sign. the sermon is close to an end, which means you have to speed up. a bit too excited, you take him in fully, making the tip of his cock suddenly hit the back of your throat. you gag, immediately knowing that you shouldn’t have – your eyes flicker up, meeting theodore’s ocean blue ones, and his eyebrow is raised. you’re unsure if it’s a sign of disapproval or amusement, for his expression is usually hard to read. you can’t apologize – you’re filled with him to the brim, but when his attention shifts back to the crowd behind you, you take it as a sign to continue.

you taste the saltiness of precum soon enough, and you can only hope that the timing is right. theodore’s hand tightens a bit in your hair, signifying the fact that he’s close – and he doesn’t stop you, meaning you’re doing a good job. your pace picks up, saliva dripping out of the corners of your mouth as his length disappears into the tightness of your mouth over and over again. you gag again, yet at this point it doesn’t really matter – theodore’s cock starts throbbing, and the warmth of his seed coats the walls of your throat. his voice never falters above you, but you can feel the way his fingers dig into your scalp, and it’s the most pleasant sting you have ever felt on your body.

as you lick him through the orgasm, throughly cleaning him up, theodore closes the sermon, dismissing everyone with a wave of his hand. you don’t dare to pull away until he tugs at your hair, his other hand softly caressing your chin, lifting up your face. you look up, your eyes filled with endless devotion. theodore takes in the sight of your swollen lips, your jaw which hangs slack due to being open for so long, your glassy eyes that are nearly tearing up, and his gaze softens.

"you did well, darling. very well," he murmurs, and your heart grows a few sizes too big for your chest. you did well. his praise is all you could ask for yet could never dream of.

"meet me in my room in ten minutes. you deserve a reward, my dear."

if you weren’t on your knees already, they would surely buckle. you nod, accepting his invitation for what it is; you know the others will notice you heading to his house on the grounds later, and it fills you with a sense of accomplishment. it’s rare to earn yourself an honor of getting a reward from the teacher, and it certainly feels like a win. maybe, just maybe you could become a new favourite, after all.

[linoxpudding]

Morning Cuddles - Seo Changbin

*gif credit goes to owner*

summary: sunday morning at seo household, changbin is whipped for his girls

pairing: seo changbin x reader

genre: fluff, domestic, married couple

word count: 624 words

a/n: this writing was inspired by this request ♡ changbin is so husband *sighs dreamily*

-

morning cuddles series:

Chan Lee Know Hyunjin Jisung Felix Seungmin I.N

Masterlist

~°~

It’s one of those slow, perfect Sundays—the kind where there’s no rush to be anywhere, no alarms, just the peaceful comfort of being home.

You wake up to soft babbling sounds, the sweetest melody to your ears. Blinking the sleep away, you turn over to see your baby girl sitting up between you and Changbin, her tiny hands patting her daddy’s cheek repeatedly in an attempt to wake him.

“Dada,” she says in her sleepy little voice, pressing her chubby fingers into his face. “Dada, up.”

You chuckle, gently brushing a hand through her soft hair. “I don’t think Daddy’s ready to wake up yet, sweetheart.”

Changbin, however, cracks one eye open, groaning dramatically. “Dada is very tired,” he mumbles, reaching out to blindly pull both you and your daughter into his arms. “Dada needs five more minutes…”

Your daughter, however, has other plans. She wiggles her way onto his chest, squealing as she bounces a little. “Noooo, up!”

Changbin finally gives in, opening both eyes and smiling lazily. “Aish, how can I say no to my little princess?” He scoops her up and peppers kisses all over her chubby cheeks, making her giggle uncontrollably.

You watch them with pure adoration, propping yourself up on one elbow. “She’s got you wrapped around her tiny little finger, you know that?”

Changbin grins at you, reaching out to pull you closer. “Of course. Just like her mama does.” He presses a soft kiss to your lips before leaning his forehead against yours.

The three of you stay tangled in each other’s warmth, your daughter now snuggled between you, sucking on her tiny fingers as she slowly drifts back to sleep. Changbin gently rubs her back, his voice a quiet whisper. “She’s perfect.”

Changbin’s hand moves from your daughter to yours, his fingers brushing lightly against your cheek before intertwining with yours. His grip is firm but gentle, his thumb rubbing soothing circles over the back of your hand.

“You know…” he begins quietly, his voice thick with emotion, “I don’t think I say it enough, but… thank you.”

You blink at him, tilting your head slightly. “For what?”

His fingers tighten around yours just a little as he looks at you with nothing but pure adoration. “For being the mother of my child. For giving me our little girl. For… everything.”

Your heart swells at his words, warmth spreading through your chest like a soft embrace. You squeeze his hand back, your own eyes growing a little misty. “You don’t have to thank me for that, Binnie.”

“I do,” he insists gently, bringing your intertwined hands up to his lips to press a lingering kiss against your knuckles. “You’re amazing. She’s lucky to have you as her mom. And I’m lucky to have you as my wife.”

Tears threaten to prick at your eyes, but before you can say anything, your daughter's small fingers reach for your joined hands, clumsily placing her own on top as if she wants to be included.

Changbin chuckles softly. “See? She agrees.”

You laugh, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his lips before placing another on your daughter’s forehead. “I love you both so much,” you whisper, voice full of emotion.

Changbin tugs you in closer, wrapping an arm around you both as he buries his face into your hair. “And we love you,” he murmurs. “So, so much.”

You smile, resting your head against his shoulder. “We’re pretty lucky, huh?”

He hums in agreement, wrapping his arms around both of you protectively. “More than lucky. I wouldn’t trade this for anything.”

The three of you stay like that—tangled together, hands intertwined, hearts beating as one. And in that moment, you know: This is happiness. This is home.

[topluvr]

HIII I LOVE YOUR WRITING!!! can i request a jiyong enemies to lovers?? doesn’t matter if its headcannons or not!

Drunken Confessions

Kwon ji-yong x Reader

A/N: I feel like this is more frenimes to lovers so I'm sorry, but thank you for the request. Also reader is daesung's younger sister.

warnings: alcohol use

word count: 2.3k

Your eyes slowly shift open, the sunlight from the window shining through into your bedroom, the brightness caused you to squint your eyes shut. Once you adjusted to the light you got out of bed and started your daily routine.

You’ve been living in your new apartment for a couple months now, after finally moving out of your parents home you moved into a smallish apartment in seoul.

Your brother ‘Daesung’ made sure you had everything you needed. He helped you with unpacking, building your furniture and helping you decorate, his friends helped out sometimes too, well except for one. ‘jiyong’. For some reason he hated you.

You did grow up with his friends around, you were all close they always protected you, it was like having three extra older brothers. expect for jiyong, at first he was sweet to you always making sure you were okay and checking up with you occasionally.

However when you grew up and things changed, his mood and attitude towards you were replaced with more hateful ones, you had no idea why he was like this.

At first you thought he was just going through a lot but when it turned into years and his hatred towards you didn’t change, you started to feel the same way about him, Well kind of you've been crushing on him since the first time you met but pushed them aside for many reasons. The two main ones being your brother daesung would never let it happen and jiyong obviously didn’t feel the same way.

The two of you having at least one argument every time you go visit your brother, surprisingly you loved it, you loved when his eyes burn daggers at you when you tease him, you loved the way his voice slightly raised every time you annoy him. He treats you like shit but this only made you crave his attention more.

Once you were dressed, you headed towards your local coffee shop and ordered your daily coffee, you also got the guys their orders to surprise them with, before heading to YG.

When you arrived at the building the staff immediately recognised you and you were let straight in, you walked into the elevator and pressed the second floor button. The doors slid open and you stepped out into the long hallway heading towards the room your brother and his friends were usually in when they were working.

Your hand knocks against the door giving it two light taps. You hear a voice say come in so you twist the handle and walk in. The sight you were met with made your stomach flutter, it was jiyong he was sat in the middle of the couch legs spread, his black hair slicked back but a few strands falling in his face, you didn’t realise how long you’d been staring until you heard a throat being cleared.

“Enjoying the view?” He smirked looking at you. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You scoff placing the coffee on the table in front of you.

“I know you want me, don’t hide it baby.” He jokingly pouted, You gave him a glare.“Shut up jiyong, you’re so full of yourself it’s sad.”

He stood from the couch and walked over to you. “Poor me.” He faked sobbed wiping his eyes, You hated it, hated the way his voice made you feel, hated the way your cheeks would heat up when he looked at you, You hated how bad you wanted him.

You stood in silence glaring at him, him doing the same until he moved closer, you could feel his breath on your face, your heart beating faster, ‘what is he doing’ you thought remaining still.

His face was now even closer to yours he leans in. “Thank you for the coffee y/n.” He laughs grabbing one of the coffees you placed on the table before walking out.

After you stood there for a minute trying to calm yourself down over the interaction with jiyong. You hear the door open and your head turns. You were met with the smiling face of your brother.

“Hi little sister, i didn’t know you were coming.” He said walking over to hug you. “I know, it was a last minute decision, I got everyone coffee though.” You giggle pulling back from his hug.

“So how is everything going with your job”. Daesung asked. “Yeah it’s going fine actually i’m enjoying it so far, and i’ve met so many new friends.” You smiled.

-

After you spent almost the whole morning with your brother you headed back home and decided to relax for the evening.

*beep* *beep*

You pick up your phone to check the notification.

y/f/n: Hi y/n, me and the girls are going out tonight, to the new bar that just opened, do you want to come?

y/f/n: It will be fun ;)

y/n: I’d love to, what time?

y/f/n: Be ready for 7 we will come get you in a cab.

You put your phone back down and got up to go get ready for the night.

After your shower you went to your closet to find some clothes, a while after searching you decided to go with a black short dress, fishnet tights and your black heels.

Your makeup didn’t take you long and by the time you were fullly dressed your phone buzzzed.

y/f/n: We are outside :)

You switched you phone off placing it in the little black purse you chose to match your outfit with, you also grabbed a jacket before leaving your apartment.

You and the girls arrive at the club, after waiting in the line for a while you were finally let in. You and two of the girls headed to the leather booths near the back of the club, the other girls headed to the bar to get the drinks started.

You all chatted for a while, and after many drinks some of the girls decided to head to the dancefloor, you and (y/f/n) stayed behind on the seats relaxing into the feeling of the alcohol.

“so how’s it going with that guy your always gushing over, jiyong is it?.” She smirked before taking a sip of her drink, You gave her a glare. “I do not gush over him and he’s being a asshole like usual.” You say rolling your eyes.

“hmm sure y/n.” She laughed, you look at her. “why don’t i go get us some more shots.” You fake smile, standing up, she let out another drunken laugh as you left.

Once you got to the bar you ordered 5 shots, you quickly downed two and headed back to the table with the rest.

As the night went on and your body consumed more alcohol. He couldn’t leave your head, you just can’t stop thinking about how close he got to you earlier, how his lips were so close to yours.

Your thoughts consumed you, you imagined how his lips would feel on yours and how badly you needed them there, you softly bit your lip at the thought.

Meanwhile (y/f/n) thought it would be a good idea to call jiyong, she could tell you were drunk and not really interacting with the group.

She leaned over and grabbed your phone from the table before heading outside, She unlocked your phone and searched for his contact, once she found it she clicked on it and let it ring.

“Hi, this is jiyong right?” (y/f/n) asked once the call connected. “yes, who is this?” He replied confused looking at your name on his screen but not hearing your voice.

“This is y/n’s friend, can you come pick her up she’s had too much to drink and no one else is picking up.” (y/f/n) confessed into the line.

Ji-yong replied almost immediately “Yeah send me the address i’ll be there.” He said sternly through the phone, after he got the address he said bye to your friend and left his house.

His drive over to you was silent yet his head was thinking of all the ways he’ll scold you for drinking too much, his hands grip tight on the steering wheel his jew clenching at the thought of you in such a vulnerable state.

He pulled up to the address your friend sent him, He made his way through the doors and headed in towards the crowd of people, his eyes scanning every inch of the room. That’s when he looked to the back where all the leather booths were, he saw your face and the pout that was plastered on it.

He made his way over to you and your friends. “y/n”. He said loudly over the music, Your head shoots up at the sound of your name, that’s when your eyes meet his, you were completely shocked to see him, but your drunk state causes you to stand up.

“JIYONGGG.” You screeched flinging your arms around his neck, your legs loosing a bit of balance when you stood up causing his arm to wrap around your waist, before you could even ask him why he’s here.

“let’s go.” He said in your ear, pulling you away from your friends, you didn’t protest just kept a hold of the man that’s been on your mind all night.

Once you got into his car your both sat their for a moment in silence. “How stupid can you be, getting this drunk you can barely walk and that outfit,is that for all the men you’ve probably been throwing yourself at all night.” He scoffed into the silence.

Your anger boils at his words, who does he think he is, speaking to you like that. “Why are you such an asshole.” You spoke looking at him.

“why are you such a bitch?” He replied, his eyes burning into yours.

You let out a sigh at his words and your head turned to face the window,no words enter the air after that,the only sound you heard was his keys as he started up the car. The ride to your apartment was uncomfortably silent , your head was slightly spinning from the alcohol.

his car pulled up to your apartment building and his door opened, He got out and walked to the passenger side to help you out.

You held onto his arm and slowly stepped out of the car. “why do you hate me?” You asked, your drunken words went straight to his ears and his head shot up to look at you. “I don’t hate you y/n.” He sighed.

“Then why aren’t you ever nice to me, you used too be i don’t understand what i’ve done.” The words fell from your lips, you raised you eyebrows waiting for his reply, you wanted to know why he treats you like this was it something you did you thought.

“You haven’t done anything wrong, I just- it’s hard to explain.” He replied stroking his hands through his hair and sighing. “Just fucking tell me jiyong i’m sick and tired of you treating me like shit, and i know i say things back but i’m just giving you the same treatment i get.” You scoffed pointing your finger in his chest.

The alcohol was definitely making you confident, the words you spoke would have never come out your mouth sober.

“It would ruin things i can-“ Before he could speak your words cut him off. “JUST FUCKING TELL ME JIYONG!” you yell, you were getting even more angry why won’t he just tell you.

“FUCK, i like you okay since the first day we met, you’re all i can think about and i’m sorry for being a asshole but i couldn’t do that to dae he would kill me if he knew i was thinking about his little sister like that, so i wanted you to hate me that’s why i treat you the way i do” His words hit you with relief, your body was frozen though and your eyes still connected to his.

You both stood there staring at each other, he was waiting for you to speak to say anything about his confession and when you didn’t he sighed. “Just forget about this okay.” He said heading back over to the drivers side of his car.

“wait” You spoke out gripping his wrist, he stops in his tracks. “I like you too, i always have.” The words finally left your lips, your head was spinning not because of the alcohol but because of him.

His body turned facing yours once again, he took two long strides, his hands grabbing your face, pulling your lips to his immediately.

The kiss initially took you by surprise but after a couple seconds your lips relaxed into his, his hands gradually moved to your waist to rest there and yours went to his hair.

Your heart was beating so fast you thought it would explode, the amount of times you’ve thought about this and now it’s actually happening and it’s so much better then you could have ever imagined. His soft lips exploring yours.

You felt his tounge wanting to enter your mouth so you let him, You moaned when your felt his tounge swirl against yours.

“The things you do to me.” He smirked pulling away. “I’ve wanted that for so long.” You whisper eyes never leaving his.

“Fuck baby, me too.” He groaned pulling you into a messier kiss then before. After what felt like hours he finally pulled back stroking your face in the process.

“I’m sorry for everything y/n.” He genuinely apologised, you smirk at his words. “It’s okay, you admitted to being an asshole and i’m glad you’ve finally come to your senses.” You tease.

“You little brat.” He laughed, his hands pulled you in closer to him and his hands came down to give your ass a playful slap. You both burst out laughing at his action.

“How did you know where i was anyway?” You asked. “Your friend called said you had too much to drink and no one else was picking up.” He replied pulling you into his side as you both start walking to your apartment. “oh my god, i’m going to kill her.”

[blxxmingrose]

the ceremony hadn’t started, but as hans looked into june’s eyes, it was like they were having a ceremony of their own. there in that quiet moment shared between the two of them, they had already spoken their love, bound their souls together, and became inseparable before they could even reach the dais. 

his smile was that of assurance, with no trace of worry for what could go wrong—just that calmness within him that told him june’s presence was all he needed. “let’s go get married,” he echoed, and finally, his feet moved. 

their walk to the dais felt like a glide to the ocean, the sand beneath them shaping around each footfall, immortalizing the steps they took to get to the altar. seagulls sang with the gentle waves for their procession music, and jinx and scooter trailed behind, not quite cognizant but joining in the solemn moment. hans never let go of june’s hand—the hand that always kept him steady. the hand that he would soon adorn with their wedding band.

as they reached their destination, the flowers welcoming them with the sweet scent of life they had started for themselves, hans turned to face june with a deep inhale. “this is it,” he whispered, lifting his hand to cup june’s cheek as the first tear fell from his eyes. he chuckled, knowing he’d be the first to cry on this day, but still being surprised at how such happiness could overflow so quickly. 

he brought his hand down only so he could reach for the piece of paper he had been carrying with him everywhere, his vows scribbled in neat handwriting but with tear marks all over. he smiled at june, a gentle smile, and he took a deep breath before reading through his vows. 

they say souls wander the earth after we pass, waiting to be reborn into our new life. my darling june, i think my soul did not do a lot of wandering. i think it always knew where it wanted to be reborn and went straight for it—because it is wherever you would be born in, so that we can be together again as two pieces of the same soul.  i have always thought that there was nothing waiting for me in this life, until you came along and taught me what living was like--what truly being alive felt like. it was not going through the motions of waking up and sleeping; it was experiencing all the joys, all the pain, all the love that made our hearts grow fonder of each other. you taught me how beautiful the world could be, even if we had so little. you taught me that nightmares made appreciating good dreams possible. and you, my love, you showed me that life could always grow where there is someone to nurture it.  you always saw my decisiveness as a good thing. you always saw my daydreaming as a foundation for our reality. you always made me feel strong when i thought i was helpless. and today, i vow to continue to dream with you about the life we will have, and to turn it into reality day by day. i vow to be a strong foundation when it’s your turn to feel weak. i vow to never waver, to always turn to you, my best friend and protector, to be my guiding light. and in turn, be yours.  i vow to be with you in this life and the next, and to always fill your days with adventure, love, and support. i will always see you in every little plant we grow, in every wave that crashes to the shore, in every ray of sunshine hiding behind the clouds. you are the other half of me, and i vow to never leave your side now and forever. 

hans’ eyes were misty with tears as he finished, his hand still shaking as he returned the piece of paper in his pockets. all he could see was june, and as it always will be, he was the only one that mattered. 

june’s fingers curled more firmly around hans’s, anchoring them both as they stood at the edge of everything they had dreamed of. the beach stretched before them, golden sand warm beneath their feet, waves rolling in with a quiet rhythm that seemed to echo the steady beat of his own heart. he breathed in deeply, letting the salt air settle in his lungs, letting the reality of this moment sink in. it was happening. after everything — every step, every quiet moment of realization, every whispered confession in the dead of night — they were here.

his gaze flickered to hans, catching the way his husband’s breath hitched, the way his eyes traced over the flowers, the space that had been prepared for them, the tangible proof of the day they had built with their own hands. hans had always been meticulous in his planning, careful with every detail, but june knew that even if none of this had been here, if they were simply standing barefoot in the sand, alone under the sky, this would still be perfect. because hans was here. because they were together.

a small smile pulled at june’s lips, something soft, something that carried the weight of everything he felt but hadn’t yet spoken. he turned toward hans fully, his free hand lifting to smooth over his husband’s arm, tracing the fabric of his sleeve. “not a single flower ran away,” he echoed, amusement threading through his voice, though it was quieter now, lost beneath the emotion swelling in his chest. “and the sky’s clear, and the waves are calm, and everything’s right where it should be.”

he hesitated, then reached up, brushing his fingers along hans’s jaw, tilting his face just slightly so their eyes met, so there was nothing between them but the truth of this moment.

“it’s real,” he murmured. “you and me, standing here. just like we always planned.” his thumb traced gently over hans’s cheekbone, a touch meant to soothe, to let hans feel the same certainty june did. his fingers curled slightly where they rested. his chest ached with love, a love that was bigger than words, bigger than anything he had ever known. it was in every breath, in the warmth of hans’s skin beneath his touch, in the way their hands remained clasped, unwavering, steady.

for a moment, he just let himself look. at the man he loved, the man who had changed everything, the man he would spend the rest of his life with. then, with the slightest tilt of his head, he murmured “let’s go get married, my love.”

[jjscrybaby]

could you do kook!reader spoiling jj? like, they're surprisingly really good friends and she's always getting stuff that she thinks he might need or want, like he comes over and she's doing skin care and she'll do his, or bringing him lunch, even buying him rings or surf supplies and everytime he gets all choked up and red because she's so sweet to him, just wanting to make him happy, and all his friends tease him for it calling her his sugar mommy and everything (all cutesy, sfw ^^)

jj maybank x kook!fem!reader | fluff | (sweetheart!reader, both are massive simps honestly, reader spending too much money on jj, lotta fluff!)

finally getting to my requests! hope you enjoy baby🩷 after writing this i’ve realised i have an obsession with jj and a sweetheart kook so if anyone has any requests for them i’m allll ears!!

︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶ ୨♡୧ ︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶

One thing about JJ was that he wasn’t used to being spoiled. That made sense, with the way he’d grown up and the people he was friends with. The Pogues all adored each other, but they showed their love with banter and loyalty not with gifts and affection. That was probably the reason he turned into a teenage girl every time you were around, because you always had something for him.

It was a known fact that you had a crush on him, ever since Sarah had started dating John B and dragged you along with her you’d thought JJ was cute. At first, he wasn’t a huge fan of you, you were a Kook and in his eyes that made you the enemy. It only took a few days for that novelty to wear off, once he realised there wasn’t a cruel bone in your body.

It was after a couple months of friendship that the never-ending string of affection began. Showing up to his work with his favourite sandwich in a paper bag — a heart drawn on like you were his mother sending him to kindergarten — buying him a new board after he was complaining about how old his was getting, realising there was hardly any body wash left in the bathroom so ordering three bottles for next day delivery. He’d blush and stammer over his words every single time, you just had that effect on him and he couldn’t work out why.

“There she is, JJ’s sugar mama,” John B teased as you came skipping into the Chateau with a shopping bag in hand; nothing out of the ordinary.

“Shut up,” JJ grumbled, shooting him a look before turning to you. “Hey, sweetheart.”

“Hi, guys,” you beamed, sitting down on the couch beside the blonde. Your knee was bouncing excitedly, just waiting for one of them to ask you what you’d brought.

“What’s in the bag?” John B finally asked, a smirk on his face.

You instantly opened it up, grabbing a shirt from the top to throw his way. You didn’t want him to feel left out, although Sarah spent enough money on him that you didn’t feel quite so guilty for showing up with presents for JJ and nothing for John B.

“You didn’t have to get me anything,” John B laughed, catching it with ease. He held it up, grinning at the shirt. You imagined he was similar to JJ in the sense that he didn’t get a lot growing up, although you always smiled in the same way whenever you bought yourself a cute outfit.

“It’s the same colour as your eyes!” You exclaimed, a cheesy smile on your face. You liked treating your friends, it was probably the thing that brought you the most happiness.

“Well, I appreciate it, thanks kid,” John B smiled, standing up to give you a pat on the shoulder. “I’m guessing everything else in there is for Mr Maybank here.”

JJ’s cheeks instantly lit up, looking away to try and cover it before his friend could make fun of him. John B stifled a laugh as you nodded sheepishly. You knew that they’d all worked out how you felt about JJ, you’d always drunkenly told John B and Sarah that you wanted to have his babies so that probably gave it away.

“I’m gonna go try this on,” John B decided, ruffling your hair before disappearing inside the Chateau. JJ took a moment to thank God for that, he hated reacting like an idiot in front of the others.

“You know, us inviting you ‘round doesn’t mean you have to bring presents,” JJ stated, scratching his chin awkwardly.

“I know,” you shrugged. “But I was at the mall, and there was so much cute stuff! I got this skirt, too.” You tugged on the end of your baby pink skirt and he let out a soft laugh.

“Go on then, show me what you got,” he sighed, watching as you squealed and started to empty the shopping bag.

There were at least six new shirts in there, a pair of cargo shorts because he’d ripped his at a kegger, some new rings just because and a sweatshirt he himself had been saving up for. He had the same reaction as always, a lump in his throat as he wondered what he’d done in his past life to deserve such kindness and a blush coating his cheeks as you rambled on about how good you thought he’d look in the shirts.

“Do you like them?” You asked softly, after he’d been silent for longer than usual. Normally, he’d stutter out a thank you, kiss your temple and flip off the Pogues as they laughed at him.

“I— yeah, of course I do, but I don’t know if I want you to keep buyin’ me stuff,” JJ said, running a hand over his face.

He could see the way your smile dropped, a look of confusion and hurt in your eyes. “Why?” You asked quietly.

“Because, babe, I— I can’t return the favour, y’know? I don’t have enough money to go ‘round buying you a bunch of stuff, as much as I’d love to. Makes me feel guilty,” he explained, placing his hand on your arm to show he wasn’t mad.

The hurt faded from your face and instead you gave him a soft smile, one reserved for him. “I don’t want you to buy me stuff, I don’t care about that. I like getting you stuff. Besides, it’s not like you don’t do anything for me.”

“What do I do for you?” He questioned, eyebrows furrowing as he tried to think.

“Lots of stuff! You make my coffees when I stay over, and you give me your extra fries. You scare away the boys at parties and you always say I look pretty,” you listed, this time a blush coated your cheeks.

He’d never really thought about it like that, like he was actually doing something for you. In his mind, he knew you liked a coffee so he’d make you one before waking you. He knew the Wreck’s fries were your favourite, that was a given from the way you’d scoff them down, so when you ran out he didn’t mind sharing. The scaring away boys was more for him, he didn’t want any of them swooping you off your feet whilst he was trying to work out how to do that himself. And calling you pretty? Well, you were.

JJ didn’t say anything, an idea came to mind. He reached behind him, undoing the shark tooth necklace he’d been wearing ever since he could remember. You watched him in confusion as he moved your hair out of the way and did it up, grinning as it rested just above your cleavage.

“I know it ain’t designer or anything, and it probably doesn’t got with any of your outfits, but it’s my favourite—” he cut himself off, watching as tears ran down your cheeks. You threw your arms around him and he was quick to wrap his around your waist, letting out a chuckle. “It was, like, a few dollars. No need for the tears, baby.”

“I love it,” you sniffled into his shoulder.

He felt himself pressing a kiss to your cheek, hand stroking over your back. Maybe one day that kiss would be on your lips, and instead of a stupid necklace he’d be buying you a damn ring. Not today though, today he was content with just knowing you’d be wearing a piece of him.

[sincerelybubbles]

oooo shybau and hoth first kiss!!!

and I do mean you

warnings: lots of kissing, references to christianity, loss of faith, all of the lovely things I selfishly pour into everything I write pairing: hotch x shy!bau!reader

I took far too long with this because it felt like their first actual kiss needed to be so them and I didn't know how to do that until I suddenly did.

||

The night is quiet, the kind of quiet that settles deep in the bones, the kind that makes everything feel a little softer, a little more sacred. You don’t realize you’ve been holding your breath until the lock on your front door clicks shut behind you, muffling the world outside.

Aaron lingers in your entryway, hands resting lightly on his hips, exhaling like he’s letting go of something heavy. The case had been a brutal one. It wasn’t the worst you’d seen, but something about it had weighed on him. He hadn't said much on the plane home, but then again, he never really had to—not with you.

Now, in the hush of your apartment, that quiet between you stretches like a held note. The exhaustion clings to you both, but neither of you moves to part ways.

“You should get some rest,” he says finally, voice low and steady.

You nod, though you make no effort to leave, and he doesn’t step away. Instead, he watches you the way he always does—attentively, patiently, like he’s waiting for something you don’t yet have the words for.

Maybe it’s the hours of close proximity, the way his shoulder brushed against yours on the plane, the way he had glanced over at you every so often as if checking to make sure you were still there. Maybe it’s the way your body still hums with adrenaline, or maybe it’s simply because you want to.

But whatever it is, you move before you can talk yourself out of it.

It’s barely anything—a shift forward, your fingers brushing against his wrist. His breath catches. Just for a second. But you hear it.

And when you tilt your chin up, meeting his gaze, there’s something in his eyes—something searching, something unsure but steady all the same. He doesn’t move away. He doesn’t pull you in. He just watches, like he’s memorizing the moment before it happens, as if he wants to be sure.

As if he’s willing to wait as long as it takes.

You swallow, heart fluttering wildly in your chest. "Aaron..."

It’s nothing more than his name, barely a whisper, but it undoes something in him. His hands come up—gentle, grounding—one settling at your waist, the other skimming up, up, until his knuckles ghost over your jaw, tilting your face just so.

He leans in, so close you can feel the warmth of his breath, but he doesn’t close the distance just yet. He gives you that space, that choice, because that’s what he does.

And you—shy, quiet, observant you—you make the choice.

Your fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt, and you close the space between you.

It’s barely a kiss at first. Just the press of your lips against his, testing, tentative, reverent. He exhales sharply through his nose, like he hadn’t realized he’d been holding his breath either. Then his hand at your waist tightens ever so slightly, his other tilting your chin just enough to angle you to him.

And Aaron Hotchner—who is always so careful, always so controlled—melts into you like he’s been waiting for this.

Like he’s home.

His lips are warm against yours, steady but unhurried. The weight of his hand at your waist keeps you grounded, keeps you from floating away entirely, because that’s what this feels like—like weightlessness, like the moment before freefall.

Your fingers tighten in the fabric of his shirt, and he responds in kind, the press of his mouth growing just the slightest bit firmer. He’s still careful, still giving you time to pull away if you want to, but you don’t. You couldn’t if you tried.

The world outside is silent, the only sound between you the quiet hitch of breath when he shifts, tilting his head to deepen the kiss—just a little, just enough. His thumb ghosts along your jaw, the touch featherlight, reverent.

Aaron Hotchner, composed and measured, is kissing you like he’s afraid you might disappear.

It sends something warm curling through your chest, something that chases away any last shred of hesitation. You lift onto your toes, pressing closer, and that’s all it takes for him to let go of whatever restraint he’d been holding onto.

He exhales sharply, his hand sliding from your waist to splay against your lower back, pulling you flush against him. It’s still soft, still achingly tender, but there’s more now—more intent, more certainty.

You feel it in the way he holds you, in the way his fingers press into your skin like he’s trying to memorize the shape of you, in the way he lets out a breath when you tilt your head and let yourself melt into him completely.

It would be so easy to get lost in this moment, to let time slip away entirely. But then he stills, just slightly, just enough for you to feel it.

He lingers, his lips barely brushing yours, and when he finally pulls back, he does it slowly, like he doesn’t really want to.

His forehead rests against yours, his breath warm and uneven. For a moment, neither of you speak.

Then, softly, his thumb traces along your cheekbone. “Are you okay?”

You blink up at him, dazed, the weight of his question sinking in. He’s not asking if the kiss was okay. He’s asking about all of it—about the fact that he’s your boss, about the way this changes things, about whether or not you regret it.

And maybe you should. Maybe you should be afraid of what this means, what it could mean for the two of you, for the job, for everything.

But you’re not.

Because right now, with his hands still holding you close, with his lips still tingling against yours, there’s no space for regret. There’s only this.

You swallow, searching his face, the faint crease in his brow, the way his dark eyes trace over yours, studying, waiting.

And then, finally, you answer.

“I’m good.”

The relief in his eyes is subtle, but you catch it. His lips twitch like he’s fighting the urge to smile.

And for the first time in a long time, Aaron Hotchner lets himself believe that something good—something soft, something steady—might finally be his to keep.

Aaron doesn’t let go of you. His hands stay where they are—one pressed warm and steady against your lower back, the other cradling your face with a kind of reverence that makes your breath catch.

His thumb brushes over your cheekbone again, and there’s something searching in his gaze, like he’s looking for hesitation, for regret. But you don’t give him any.

Instead, you lean in first this time.

It’s tentative, your fingers tightening in the front of his shirt as you tilt your chin up. You feel his breath hitch just before he meets you halfway.

The second kiss is different from the first.

It’s slower but deeper, less of a question and more of an answer. Where the first had been cautious, this one lingers, his lips parting just slightly against yours, pulling you closer, tilting his head to fit against you more perfectly.

He tastes like coffee and something distinctly him, something warm and grounding, something you think you could get lost in if you let yourself.

And it’s clear now—he’s letting himself fall.

The hand at your back slides higher, fingers skimming along the line of your spine, anchoring you to him. Your heart is hammering, but it’s not fear, not nerves—it’s just him. The way he’s kissing you like he can’t help himself, like he’s memorizing the shape of you, the feel of you, the way you sigh softly into his mouth when he angles himself just right.

There’s nothing hurried about it, nothing rushed or frantic. It’s deliberate, patient, like he’s savoring the moment, like he’s been waiting for this longer than he’d ever admit.

And then—he slows.

It’s barely noticeable at first, but you feel it in the way his lips linger just a second longer before pulling back, in the way his fingers tighten against your back like he’s reluctant to let go.

When he does finally pull away, he doesn’t go far.

His forehead rests against yours, breaths uneven, warm between you. Neither of you speak right away.

Your eyes flutter open, and he’s already looking at you.

His expression is unreadable at first—something caught between awe and disbelief. Like he can’t quite wrap his head around this, around you.

Then, finally, after a long moment, he exhales, voice rough at the edges.

“I’m not sure I know how to stop.”

Your breath catches.

Because he’s not just talking about the kiss.

He’s talking about the way he feels about you, the way you’ve slowly unraveled him without even trying.

And God, you don’t want him to stop.

So you tighten your grip on his shirt, tilting your head just slightly, lips brushing against his once more in quiet invitation.

“You don’t have to.”

And with that, Aaron Hotchner—always measured, always careful—lets himself fall just a little bit further.

His presence is steady, grounding, and yet, your heart is anything but steady. It’s quick, uneven, rattling against your ribs with a nervous kind of energy you don’t know how to contain.

You step further into the apartment, away from him, before you can stop yourself, motioning vaguely toward the couch. “You can sit—if you want, I mean—you don’t have to.”

The words tumble out too fast, unfiltered, rushed in a way that makes your face heat. You don’t usually speak without thinking. You’re careful. Measured. But right now, with him standing so close in the quiet of your home, you feel stripped bare.

Aaron doesn’t move to sit. Instead, he studies you with that quiet intensity of his, head tilting slightly, gaze flickering over your face like he’s cataloging every thought you’re trying to bury.

You swallow hard, forcing yourself to meet his eyes. “I’m not nervous because of you.” The words come quicker than you mean them to, and you rush to clarify, stepping forward again. “I don’t want you to think that. I trust you, Aaron. Completely.”

His brow creases slightly, lips parting like he’s about to speak, but you don’t let him—not yet.

“It’s me,” you admit, voice softer now, almost hesitant. “I don’t trust myself.”

His expression shifts, something deeper settling in his gaze.

You exhale sharply, shaking your head. “Not in the way you think. I just—I don’t want to mess this up. I don’t want to—” You falter, pressing your lips together. “I don’t want to give you everything and then—lose you.”

The words feel small. Too vulnerable.

Aaron doesn’t hesitate.

His hands find yours, wrapping around them with steady warmth, grounding you in a way you didn’t know you needed.

“You won’t,” he says, voice firm but gentle. “I’m here.”

Your breath catches.

Because that’s the thing, isn’t it? He is here. With you. Always.

And yet, there’s still that voice in the back of your mind whispering that nothing this good ever lasts. That he’s lost before, and losing you might be easier than letting himself risk that pain again.

But then he’s tugging you closer, tilting your chin up with the lightest touch, and suddenly, none of that matters.

Because when he kisses you, slow and deliberate, he doesn’t leave any room for hesitation.

He’s telling you something without words.

That he sees you.

That he’s choosing you.

That he’s not going anywhere.

And for now, that’s enough.

||||

Aaron follows you into the kitchen without a word, his presence close but unintrusive. He lingers near the doorway, watching as you move—still a little careful, still a little hesitant, but steadier than before.

You open the fridge, the cold air a sharp contrast to the warmth settling in your chest. “Are you hungry?” you ask, glancing at him over your shoulder. Your voice is softer than you mean it to be, but the question is genuine. You need something to do, something to tether yourself back into the tangible, something to dilute the thick tension that still lingers between you.

Aaron exhales, the ghost of a chuckle beneath his breath. “I could eat.”

It’s such a simple answer, but it makes you smile. A quiet, grateful thing.

You busy yourself gathering ingredients, pulling out what you can with deliberate focus. Bread. Cheese. Something easy, something mindless. You’ve done this a hundred times—after late cases, when your body is too tired for anything elaborate but your mind is too wired to sleep.

Aaron watches, but not in a way that unsettles you. His gaze is steady, patient, like he’s waiting for you to dictate the rhythm of whatever this is.

“You don’t have to stand there,” you murmur, glancing at him as you set a pan on the stove.

He hums, stepping forward until he’s close enough that you can feel the warmth of him at your side. “What are we making?”

“We?” You raise an eyebrow at him.

His lips twitch, not quite a smile, but something close. “I assumed this was a team effort.”

You shake your head, focusing back on the pan as butter melts in the center. “It’s just a grilled cheese, Hotch.”

“Then I’m sure I can help.”

You don’t argue, though there’s something about the image of Aaron Hotchner making a grilled cheese sandwich that nearly makes you laugh. Instead, you hand him a slice of bread and let him take over, watching as he works in comfortable silence.

It’s easy, standing here with him like this.

And for the first time tonight, you let yourself believe that maybe—just maybe—this could be simple, too.

The sizzle of butter against the pan fills the quiet space between you, but your thoughts are elsewhere—circling the weight of this moment, the quiet divinity of it.

Aaron stands close, sleeves rolled up, the golden glow of your kitchen light catching the slight furrow in his brow as he carefully presses the sandwich into the pan. He treats it with the same precision he gives everything—handling something as simple as this with the same care as he does a gun, or a case file, or a person he’s sworn to protect.

It shouldn’t feel sacred, but it does.

There is something terrifying in the ease of it—in the quiet devotion of sharing a kitchen, in watching his hands work, in the way he glances at you as if to ensure you are still here, still real. There is something terrifying about being witnessedlike this, wholly and without demand.

It reminds you of stories you read as a child, of devotion poured from one vessel into another. Of sacrifice and faith, of saints and sinners alike giving themselves over to something greater than themselves. All in. No half-measures.

The idea of giving yourself over to someone—to be known like this, in every small and unnoticed moment—burns at the edges of your mind.

Because you see him, too.

You see the way his brows pinch in focus as he lifts the sandwich to check the color, the way he frowns when it’s not quite right. The way he tilts his head slightly, listening for the sound of the crust crisping beneath the weight of his spatula. The way his shoulders settle, not tense but aware of you. Always aware.

It is so easy to fall into this—into him. The ease of this moment is a quiet betrayal of the fear still curling in your ribs.

Because you want this. Him.

And wanting something this much, something that feels so wholly right, is the most terrifying thing of all.

Aaron must sense something in you—some quiet turmoil you haven’t named—because he turns, meeting your gaze with something unbearably gentle. “You okay?”

Your throat tightens. You nod.

And when he hands you half of the sandwich, the warm press of his fingers against yours feels like an unspoken vow.

The sandwich is warm in your hands, but you barely taste it. Your mind is elsewhere, spinning itself into delicate knots you’re not sure you can untangle.

You watch Aaron, the quiet way he eats, the way his fingers curl around the napkin he doesn’t quite use. The way he always chews a little slower than necessary, like he’s learned to be mindful of the smallest things, like he knows the weight of savoring something—how rare it is to be given something simple and good.

He looks at you between bites, not with expectation, not waiting for you to speak, but just looking. Present. Steady.

You wonder what it would be like to let him see all of you.

Not just the quiet, competent agent he trusts in the field. Not just the awkward, hesitant thing you become under the weight of his attention.

But all of it.

The things you keep tucked away, the things you don’t like to look at too closely. The weak, the ugly, the unpolished. The parts of you you’ve hidden behind layers of self-preservation, behind careful smiles and quiet nods and an unwavering dedication to keeping yourself small.

You’ve spent so long convincing yourself that your careful restraint is a kindness—that keeping yourself contained, giving only the good and holding back the rest, is the best way to keep the people you love close.

But Aaron doesn’t take pieces of you. He doesn’t pry, doesn’t dig his fingers into the edges of you looking for something to unfold. He simply waits.

And somehow, that makes you want to give.

To crack yourself open like the fragile thing you are, to pour yourself into his hands and say, Here. Here I am, for better or worse. Do you still want me now?

Would he take the raw, unfiltered version of you? The parts that make no sense, the thoughts that spiral too fast, the fears you can’t name? Would he hold them the way he holds everything—with quiet reverence, with the same careful patience he’s giving this moment now?

Would he love you, if you let him?

And more terrifying still—

Could you let him?

Faith has always been a foreign thing to you—something you were taught to have, something you were told to nurture, but never something you truly felt.

You tried. God, you tried. You folded your hands in prayer as a child, whispered words into the dark, but they never felt like yours. You sat in the pews, still and small, let sermons wash over you like baptismal water, but you never came out clean.

The weight of it—the expectation of belief, the demand for devotion without proof—left you hollow. They told you faith was certainty in the unseen, but you could never find comfort in blind trust.

So, you let it go.

Not in one grand act of defiance, not in a moment of clarity, but in slow, crumbling pieces. You stopped asking for signs. Stopped waiting for answers. Stopped pretending to believe in something that never made itself real to you.

You are not a woman of faith.

And yet.

You believe in Aaron.

It’s a quiet, creeping thing—not the overwhelming, all-consuming devotion you were told faith should be. Not something demanded, not something you owe, but something freely given. Something that grows.

It’s in the way he looks at you now—calm, steady, expectant, but never forceful. The way he waits for you to be ready, to be certain. He asks nothing of you. He doesn’t need your belief, doesn’t press you for assurances you can’t yet give.

And maybe that’s why you want to give them.

The feeling unfurls slow and careful inside you. Not holy, not sacred, but real.

You don’t know what tomorrow looks like. You don’t know if you’ll ever be able to lay your whole self bare, to place your fragile, beating heart in his hands and trust him not to break it.

But you believe he wouldn’t.

You believe in this, whatever it is, wherever it leads.

And for the first time, faith doesn’t feel like a burden.

It feels like hope.

"You're staring at the bread like it personally offended you."

Aaron’s voice breaks through the thick fog of your thoughts, dragging you back to the present. You blink, refocusing on the cutting board in front of you—half a loaf of sourdough, a butter knife hovering uselessly in your hand.

You must have been standing there for a while because Aaron is leaning against the counter now, arms crossed, watching you with the same mix of patience and quiet amusement he always seems to have reserved just for you.

Heat prickles up the back of your neck. "I—" You clear your throat, forcing yourself to move, to slice the bread like a normal person and not a woman on the verge of an existential crisis. "I was just thinking."

"About?"

About faith. About belief. About giving myself to you in ways I never could with God.

You spread butter onto the slice with too much focus, too much force. "Nothing important."

Aaron makes a quiet sound—something like a hum, something like a laugh. "It looked important."

You chance a glance up at him. He’s still watching you, still waiting, but there’s no pressure there, no push. Just quiet patience.

Your chest tightens.

You nudge a plate toward him instead, deflecting. "Eat your bread, Hotchner."

He takes it without argument, but the way he’s still looking at you makes you think he’s not letting this go.

Aaron takes a slow, deliberate bite of his sandwich, watching you over the rim of his plate. "You know," he muses, "for someone who insists on feeding me, you didn’t exactly make a balanced meal. Where are the vegetables?"

You scoff, setting your own sandwich down. "You're welcome to dig through my fridge and find a carrot stick, but good luck. I think there's a single wilted bag of spinach in there that I bought optimistically and then ignored."

He huffs a laugh, shaking his head. "That sounds about right."

"You’re welcome to bring me groceries next time if you’re so concerned," you add, flashing him a small, teasing smile before taking another bite.

Aaron lifts a brow, clearly pleased by your rare willingness to push back. "So you’re already inviting me over again?"

You roll your eyes. "I’m just saying, if you’re going to judge my meal prep—"

"I wasn’t judging," he interrupts smoothly, voice warm with amusement. "Just… observing."

You narrow your eyes at him, mock-suspicious. "Observing, huh?"

"Mm-hmm," he hums, finishing the last of his sandwich. He wipes his fingers on a napkin, then leans slightly toward you, elbows resting on the counter. His voice drops just enough to be dangerous when he adds, "Like how you’re getting better at teasing me back."

You freeze mid-chew, suddenly regretting every word you just said. You force yourself to swallow, trying to maintain your composure. "Well, someone has to keep you humble."

"Is that what you were doing earlier?" He tilts his head, faux-curious. "When you kissed me?"

Your entire body tenses.

The playfulness fizzles out of you so quickly it’s almost embarrassing. Your mouth opens, then shuts again, warmth flooding every inch of your skin as you suddenly become hyperaware of everything—of the way he’s watching you, of the ghost of his lips still lingering on yours, of the way your hands twitch in your lap like they don’t know what to do.

Aaron doesn’t push. He just waits, looking far too pleased with himself.

You let out a weak, breathless laugh and immediately break eye contact, staring hard at the counter. "I hate you," you mutter.

"You don’t," he replies, and damn him, he's right.

Aaron doesn’t let up. He leans in just a little closer, just enough to make you squirm. His voice dips lower, deliberate and slow.

"You know," he murmurs, "for someone who kisses like that, I wouldn’t have expected you to get this shy about it afterward."

Your spine straightens like he’s just yanked you upright with an invisible string. "I—"

But you don’t know what to say. You don’t even know how to breathe properly under the weight of his gaze, like he’s cataloging every tiny twitch of your expression, every little way you crumble under the heat of his attention.

Aaron, to his credit, looks like he’s enjoying every second of it. His mouth tugs at the corners, his amusement restrained but not hidden.

"That was a compliment, by the way," he adds, as if that makes it better. As if it won’t set you even more on fire.

You cover your face with one hand, willing yourself not to combust. "You’re being mean."

He lets out a quiet chuckle. "I’m being honest."

"You’re enjoying this," you accuse, peeking at him through your fingers.

His silence is answer enough.

You groan, tilting your head back as if pleading with the ceiling to strike you down. "I was having such a nice time eating my sandwich."

Aaron nods, completely unrepentant. "And now you’re having a nice time blushing in your own kitchen."

"I take it back. I do hate you."

"You don’t," he counters smoothly, just like before. Then, after a beat, he adds, "But I do love watching you get all flustered."

You drop your hand from your face just to glare at him properly, but it only makes his smirk deepen, his eyes crinkling with quiet delight.

It’s almost unfair how much of an upper hand he has—how easily he can undo you with just a few well-placed words. And worse, he knows it. He’s reveling in it.

"I’m never kissing you again," you grumble, mostly as a defense mechanism.

Aaron exhales a soft laugh, then tilts his head, considering you for a long, knowing moment. "I don’t believe that," he says simply.

You don’t either.

Aaron leans back in his chair, completely at ease, completely insufferable, and looking so pleased with himself that you kind of want to shove him. Gently. Maybe.

"I don’t believe that," he repeats, smug and steady, like he’s saying something as simple as the sky is blue or I know exactly how to make you melt.

You cross your arms over your chest, mustering up every ounce of composure you have left. "You don’t know that."

He just lifts an eyebrow. "Oh? You’re really never going to kiss me again?"

"Never," you declare, pretending your cheeks aren’t burning. "Not once. Not ever."

Aaron hums, nodding along, though there’s a spark of mischief in his eyes. "That’s a shame," he muses, "because I was going to say that I think we should practice more."

You choke on air.

"Practice?"

"Mhm," he says, and then—because he’s the worst—he takes another casual bite of his sandwich, like this is just some regular, normal conversation.

Like he hasn’t just suggested practicing kissing. With him.

You press your hands to your face again. "I hate you so much."

Aaron laughs, soft and warm, and suddenly there’s a gentle touch at your wrist, coaxing your hands away. You let him, mostly because you think you might actually pass out if you try to hide behind them any longer.

"Let me see you," he murmurs, and just like that, his teasing fades into something softer, something that has your stomach flipping for an entirely different reason.

You lower your hands.

He smiles—small, but real. "There you are."

Your heart does something absolutely ridiculous in your chest.

"You are so unfair," you whisper, shaking your head.

Aaron just tilts his head slightly, his expression all warmth and quiet amusement. "I don’t know what you mean. I’m just sitting here, enjoying my sandwich."

"You weaponized a sandwich," you accuse, pointing at him, and he actually chuckles, shaking his head.

"I did not—"

"You did. You used the sandwich as a distraction while you flirted with me!"

He lets out a dramatic sigh. "Alright, you got me. I was flirting with you. And it was very successful, I might add."

You groan, dropping your head to the table. "I am so done with you."

Aaron smirks. "No, you’re not."

You peek up at him. "How do you know?"

"Because you’re going to stay, and we’re going to keep doing this—me making you blush, you pretending you hate it"—and one day, when you’re ready, you’re going to kiss me first."

You gape at him. "Absolutely not."

His smirk deepens. "We’ll see."

You lift your head and squint at him, trying to determine whether he’s a mind reader, a wizard, or just too good at reading you. Probably all three.

Aaron leans forward slightly, lowering his voice to something unbearably fond. "I like you," he says, like it’s the simplest truth in the world.

Your stomach swoops.

"You—" You cut yourself off, floundering. "I—I like you, too."

"I know."

You huff, rolling your eyes, but you can’t fight the smile pulling at your lips.

Aaron grins. "See? We should practice."

You swat at him, and he catches your hand, laughing, laughing like you’re something light in his chest, like you are something warm and easy and good.

You think you might let him keep you.

You try to glare at him, but it’s useless—he’s already got that insufferable grin on his face, and the warmth in his eyes makes it impossible to hold onto any semblance of frustration.

Aaron still has your hand, his thumb brushing idly along your knuckles like he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it. Or maybe he does. Maybe he’s just that unfair.

"You’re too smug for your own good," you grumble, though your voice lacks any real bite.

He tilts his head, considering. "I don’t think that’s true," he says, the teasing still evident, but softer now. He tugs lightly on your hand, coaxing you closer. "You just make it easy."

You scoff, but you don’t resist when he pulls you in. "I make it easy?"

He nods, all confidence, all ease, like this is the most natural thing in the world. Like you are.

You should say something clever. You should push back. You should do something.

But then he’s leaning in, and his hand comes up to cradle your cheek, and every thought you’ve ever had vanishes into nothing.

You mean to pull away, to protest but he presses a featherlight kiss to the corner of your mouth, and the words dissolve on your tongue.

"That doesn’t count," you whisper, your breath mingling with his.

Aaron hums, his thumb skimming over your cheekbone. "No?"

You shake your head, though you’re not sure who you’re trying to convince.

"Hmm." He leans in again, and this time he does kiss you—properly, fully, but still playful, still teasing, still drawing you in like he knows exactly how to unravel you.

You do pull away then, just for a second, just long enough to narrow your eyes at him. "You're enjoying this way too much."

He smirks. "Undeniably."

You huff, rolling your eyes, and then you’re the one grabbing him—fisting the front of his shirt and pulling him down into another kiss before he can say something else smug.

This time, there’s nothing playful about it.

He makes a low sound in his throat—surprised, pleased, needy—and his hands are on you, warm and steady, one at the nape of your neck, the other settling firm at your waist. You shudder at the feel of his fingers splaying across your skin, like he’s grounding you, like he’s holding on just as much as you are.

You let him pull you closer, let yourself sink into him, into the heat of his mouth, the gentle insistence of his touch. He tastes like peanut butter and something deeper, something heady, something that makes your stomach swoop.

By the time you part, you’re breathless, your fingers still curled into his shirt like you’re afraid to let go.

Aaron studies you, his gaze flickering over your face, searching. And then—so quietly, so earnestly—

"I would never leave you."

The words hit something deep, something tender, something you’ve tried so hard to keep hidden.

Your throat tightens.

He must see it, because his hand moves, his thumb brushing gently along your jaw. "Never," he repeats, his voice steady.

You believe him.

And maybe, just maybe, that’s not so terrifying after all.

[love-byers]

(same anon that previously sent an ask about the monologue, because writing all this just got me thinking)

Another thing to take note of is that Mike only talks in the past/present tense, but never in the future tense. He says "I've loved you every day since" but never "and I'm going to love you every day for the rest of my life". He's clinging to the past, he's refusing change. There's a line after where he says "And I’m not ready to lose you -- you hear me??". It's just so clear to me. Once he's ready, he can finally grow and allow new and better things to come into his life, and truly come of age. That's the kind of ending I believe is right for the show and those characters in a more general sense anyway.

OMG IVE NEVER THOUGHT ABOUT THE PAST/PRESENT TENSE STUFF THATS SO TRUE

i've always thought that it seemed like both mike and el were clinging to the past. it starts in the s3 epilogue when el says i love you too. its supposed to be taking the next big step in their relationship, maturing and changing. but mike realizes he doesn't want that, he doesn't want things to change. he doesn't want to get more serious with el. he yearns for the past when he was closer with will and didn't have the pressure of growing up and committing to el. and of course the idea of that scares him bc it makes him question the nature of he and will's relationship.

"And I guess...if I'm being really honest...I don't want things to change. So I think maybe that's why I came in here. To try to maybe...stop that change. To turn back the clock. To make things go back to how they were."

i've analyzed the living hell out of this in a byler way, because it is undoubtedly coded towards byler, but i think there is a bit of mileven here too based on what happens in s4. here's some quotes/moments that made me think mike and el were clinging to the past because they know they have no foundation of a future.

"Bitchin' right?" "Yeah, yeah, bitchin'. Do you come here a lot?" mike is so dismissive of her here it's kind of funny

then there's mike bringing her eggos before their fight. he's trying to make peace with a staple from their past, but it doesn't work, because that's not what makes a relationship strong.

"You can't let those mouth breathers ruin you, ruin us." again a reference to a joke/phrase from their past. something they share, or should share. mike feels like saying that will draw them back together. but it fails

"They're nobodies. And you're a superhero." "Not anymore." i feel like this one speaks for itself lol

and the fact that the song playing over their fight is called "Eulogy", a track that plays during scenes referencing dead characters (barb, bob, el (before mike knew she was alive), billy) and metaphorical deaths, like el moving into the cabin with hopper. "This is your new home." it's representing the death of el's old life in the lab, and finding new beginnings. their fight was the death of their relationship, and even mike knows it. a fight you can't come back from.